I Was Made For You
by clarembees
Summary: Santana never would have guessed that a lame, giant Frankenteen would be the reason she finally found the courage to be with Brittany for real.
1. I Was Made For You, Part One of Two

_A/N: This two-part fic was originally written for Love Spectrum a board for interracial romances, and though, I had never written Brittany or Santana before, I adore Brittana, so I thought I'd take a stab at writing them._

_Also, the lyrics at the beginning of both parts of the fic come from the Brandi Carlile song "The Story," which is also where the title comes from. There's a Brittana video on youtube based around the song, but it uses the cover version that Sara Ramirez did for the Grey's Anatomy musical event last year._

_The only thing I ask, is that you please be kind; I've only written one other slash fic before this, and like I said I've never written these characters prior to this fic._

**I Was Made For You**

**Brittany and Santana**

**Part One of Two**

_**You see the smile on my mouth/It's hiding the words that don't come out**_

"_**The Story" - by Brandi Carlile (as covered by Sara Ramirez of Grey's Anatomy)**_

With her usual cocky air, Santana Lopez, strutted down the halls of McKinley High, the pleats of her Cheerios skirt flouncing against the back of her toned mocha skinned thighs. Her full lips smirked at the drooling boys she passed on the way to her locker, and just to taunt them even more; she _purposefully_ swished her hips seductively.

Expecting to see her familiar bright red locker come into view, the Latina was sorely disappointed. Instead, her locker was obstructed by the tall, lanky frame of one Finn Hudson, star quarterback and co-captain of the school's glee club.

Immediately her beautiful features turned sour. Wearing her signature scowl, she put her hands on her hips and said, her tone laced with venom and impatience, "Hey, Frankenteen, move your Jolly Green Giant ass a'fore I go _all_ Lima Heights on it. Your stupid little Finnocence act with your lame puppy eyes doesn't do it for me anymore, so go find your psycho lil midget Berry, and gets out my way."

Finn Hudson wasn't the smartest boy at McKinley, which was the only reason he didn't run screaming in the other direction when Santana threatened to go all Lima Heights on him. However, he did look appropriately fearful as his eyes went wide while he could feel his face turning the color of warm milk.

Swallowing thickly, he stood his ground and didn't move from his spot in front of her locker.

Her coffee eyes flared with irritation. "What's the matter with you? Did you _not_ understand me when I said, if you _don't_ move, I'm gonna go all Lima Heights on your ass? Or has your brain _still_ not caught up with the rest of your _gigantor_ body? Do I have to spell it out for you, Hudson? I don't want your grubby, ginormous man paws all up in my jelly! _This_," She motioned to her body cockily with one hand and smirked. "Is a lady's only zone, so go find Quinn or something. She's in full on skank mode now, so she'll be down for taking a ride on your roller coaster since that little girlfriend you call a Hobbit, still ain't giving it up to you."

"Wha..." He mumbled, shaking his head before he realized what she was talking about. "No!" He practically shouted. "That's not why..." He sputtered, his thoughts too jumbled to actually come out of his mouth coherently. "Keep your jelly to yourself, Santana! I don't want it!"

Santana's patience was wearing thin. "If you don't wants all up in my jelly, then what the fuck _do_ you _want_, Hudson? I gots plans to pop in some Sweet Valley High and gets my cuddle on with Brit Brit, so that means if you don't get out of my way in, like, _two seconds_, I'm gonna end you, kay?"

Swallowing thickly again, Finn ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Looking down at his Converse covered feet, he took a deep breath and stared into her rich, coffee eyes. "That's what I wanted to, um, talk to you about...Brittany... You and Brittany, I mean."

Arching a perfectly tweezed dark brow, the Latina crossed her arms over her chest. "And Brittany and I are _your_ business because?"

"I saw you guys underneath the bleachers when I was going back to the locker room after practice. You were braiding her hair and laughing, and you..." His voice trailed as he waived his hands in various directions. "You just looked _really _happy and stuff, Santana."

"What the hell does that have to do with you, Franken-dumbass?"

"It was like when I first joined Glee club and I was spending all that time with Rachel..."

"Oh hells no!" Santana screeched, beautiful features contorting with disgust and horror. "You are _not_ comparing me getting my sweet lady kisses on with Brit to whatever weird, freak-a-zoid, creeptastic _thing_," Her voluptuous frame shuddered for affect. "You have going with _that_ psycho Liza Minnelli wanna be! Hells no!"

The boyishly handsome quarterback ignored her dig at his girlfriend, and soldiered on, hoping she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, they weren't friends or anything and yeah, she put him down, like, all the time, but she was still the girl he lost his virginity to. The girl who tied his tie for his Mom's wedding.

And it was weird and he didn't understand it, but he kinda, sort of cared about her.

"I know I'm not the brightest tool in the shed, but Kurt says I'm a people person and not a book person or something like that. He used a lot of words that I didn't understand, but whatever. I can tell how much you care about Brittany, and I know she cares about you too. So, like, don't be afraid to show it. I was like that with Rachel at first, you know? I wanted her to change, to be less like her so I would still be popular," His lips were down turned briefly and a sadness washed over his puppy dog features. "But I realized – you know when we were in New York for Nationals last year – that all the stuff, I wanted to change about her, _is_ why I fell for her in the first place and that _she_ didn't need to change at all. It was _me_ who needed to change."

Santana stood there, dumbfounded. What the fuck just happened? Finn fucking Hudson _actually_ made sense.

Her body shook as his words sank in deeper and deeper.

"You should be, like, _proud_ and stuff to walk around holding Brittany's hand. You _shouldn't_ be hiding under the bleachers; that's not cool, and it isn't fair to her either. No one's gonna make fun of you or say stuff behind your back, you're _Santana Lopez_. Even the _dudes_ at this school are afraid of _you_."

"Did you, like, get a brain transplant in the last five minutes?" She snapped, not wanting him to see how his words affected her.

Only Brittany had ever made her feel so much, and now Hudson was making her get all freaking weepy because he was being all profound and shit. Whatever, it's not like he'd _actually_ call her out on her misty eyes; he so didn't have the balls for it.

Blinking, she jutted out one of her hips, resuming her normal cocky posture; figuring that he'd _finally_ get out of her way. When he didn't move, she tapped her foot impatiently and demanded, "Are you _done_ going all Lifetime soap on me, Hudson? Cause, seriously, I'm starting to think you're gonna end up with a vagina if you don't decide to move."

He huffed and rolled his eyes, absently tugging on the straps of his backpack. "I know we're not friends and stuff, and I know this is twisted and weird and a whole bunch of other stuff that I can't figure out, but I sort of, kinda care about you, okay? You're not the bitch you make everyone but Brit think you are, you're kinda human and stuff, so I got your back and whatever. What I mean is, when you decide to put yourself out there, I'm gonna be there if anyone gives you and Brit crap."

"Damn you and your stupid, sad puppy dog eyes!" She grumbled, feeling her eyes watering. "I get it, okay? You want me to be all out and proud or whatever. And, ugh, I _can't_ freaking believe I'm gonna say this, but you're right. Brit deserves more than hiding under the bleachers and getting our cuddle on when we watch Sweet Valley High."

Sighing heavily, Santana nibbled on her bottom lip before looking into Finn's chocolate eyes. She'd rather choke on barb wire than admit it out loud, but she sort of cared about him too; in this warped, twisted way. She took his virginity and though she tried to play it off like it was just another hook up, she felt something in that motel room; just like felt something during his Mom's wedding, then when he helped her put the star on the glee club tree and again when she kissed him at his kissing booth.

Sure, she didn't want his ginormous man paws all up in her jelly anymore, but for a ginormous frankenteen with no coordination and the brain the size of a pea, he was a pretty decent guy.

"You tell anyone about this and I will kick your gigantor ass so hard, your mini Frankenteens with Berry will feel it _and_ so will their Barbra Streisand stuffed up babies," Her voice grew softer by the time she finished off her threat with, "But thanks, Finn."

"I just think you should get to be happy too... You and Brittany."

Watching Finn walk away, Santana felt her stomach sink. Admitting that Brittany deserved more than hiding under the bleachers and getting their cuddle on to Sweet Valley High was one thing, doing those things was another.

_Note: I know there wasn't any Brittana in the first part, but there are rumors going around that when Glee returns from its hiatus, Finn supposedly plays a big part in getting them together, so I ran with that in this story. And I just can't help it, I love when Cory and Naya share scenes together._


	2. I Was Made For You, Part Two of Two

**I Was Made For You**

**Brittany and Santana, Glee**

**Part Two of Two**

_**I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules/But baby I broke them all for you**_

"_**The Story" - by Brandi Carlile (as covered by Sara Ramirez, Grey's Anatomy)**_

Santana is so absorbed in trying to figure out just _how_ she's going to go from getting her sweet lady kisses on with Brit, to telling her she wants _more_, that the familiar smell of warm marshmallows and daisies _doesn't_ register with her.

Neither does the feeling of smooth, glistening coconut scented blonde hair rubbing against her cheek.

What she _does_ notice is the light, airy pressing of perfectly formed pink lips that replaces the hair.

Her eyes flutter and she sinks back against the lithe, soft and firm at the same time body that's behind her, and a genuine – not her usual smirk, sneer or scowl – _smile_ comes to her full lips.

"Today's gonna be _awesome_." Brittany murmurs and she doesn't have to see her to know that big, dopey grin has bloomed over her beautiful, delicate doll like features. "I've missed getting our sweet lady kisses on, Tana. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

The blonde rubs her body against the Latina like she's a giant cat, her nose nuzzling the mocha skin of her neck and she sighs happily. "I like feeling warm and fuzzy. Don't _you_ like feeling _warm and fuzzy_?"

She doesn't wait for the Latina to answer, she answers her own question instead. "The _fuzzies_ are the _bestest_. _Everyone _should feel the kind of fuzzies _you_ make _me_ feel. If they did, the world would be a much better place."

Twisting out of Brittany's arms, Santana's face to face with her, and she's _still_ smiling. Staring into those clear blue eyes that are shimmering like a bright August day has her feeling _warm and fuzzy_, and it's almost too much to take. Tapping the other girl's too freaking cute button nose, she tells her, "That's why you're a freaking Unicorn, Brit. And why you're gonna rule this lame ass school when you become Class President."

"Yeah, I know." Brittany agrees, bobbing her head up and down with excitement. "Boys have _totally_ screwed up everything. Though," Her pink lips frown and her brow furrows. "Kurt's not like the other boys. He's a Unicorn too. Maybe," And suddenly her delicate features are bright all over again. "We can run _together_! I mean, like, _one_ Unicorn is awesome, but what about _two_?"

"Forget Hummel." Santana waives her hand dismissively. "You _don't_ need him. Remember the flash mob you staged a couple weeks ago? That had that little fairy pissing in his Manolo's. You've got this in the bag, kay? Besides, I'm _way_ hotter than his boy toy from gay Hogwarts, anyway, and as head Cheerio, I can get more than just the Glee loser vote for you."

"You're so smart, Tana."

The look of pure awe on Brittany's beautiful features has Santana's stomach twisting and turning like she's on some freaking roller coaster, and it scares the hell out of her. Everyone she's ever met – except Quinn, but that's probably because they're _too _much alike – thinks she's a bitch on wheels who's going to chew them up and spit them out for kicks, but not this girl. Not this sweet, innocent, adorable, completely dim, but amazingly self-aware and smart, beautiful girl.

She thinks she's a good person and is awesome and most importantly _worthy_ of not just her friendship, but her body and her heart.

How the fuck did she get so lucky? What was _it_ that she did to deserve Brittany S. Pierce looking at her like the way she was looking at her right now?

Biting down on her lip, she swallows hard and can't help but remember _that_ afternoon when they were standing right where they were now – her locker – and how she had confessed her inner most deepest secret; that she was in love with her, and how horrible that turned out. She expected Brittany to tell her she loved her to, instead her heart was trampled on, and for what? That stupid four-eyed cripple Artie?

Just thinking about it had her blood boiling. He was just a _boy_. They were all _just_ boys. Nameless, faceless, nothings.

But Brittany was _everything_. From her coconut scented glistening blonde hair to the tips of her cute always painted pink toes. She had somehow snuck into the deepest parts of her with just a dopey grin, bright clear blue eyes, root beer tasting lips, hot as hell body, and gentle demeanor.

Breaking her out of her thoughts, was her familiar airy tone. "Is it time to get our Sweet Lady Kisses on?"

She was practically bouncing on the tips of her toes, her clear eyes anxious and pupils dilated with excitement, and suddenly the darker haired girl felt desire flood through her body. Her tongue slipped from her lips and a low sigh escaped her throat while her stomach tightened.

Reaching for the other girl's pinky, she linked them together and with a salacious smirk, she told her, "Hells yeah, it's time for us to get our sweet lady kisses on."

It's hours later and they're a tangle of limbs on her bed in just their bras and panties. Sweet Valley High was forgotten the minute she tasted the familiar root beer flavor of Brittany's lip gloss. Her glossy jet black hair is a contrast to the flawless bronze of her skin as she lays her head across her toned, but still soft stomach.

One of her long arms is draped casually over her hip, her fingers dipping to sink beneath the elastic of her black cheeky panties, and sparks are shooting through her. Rolling over, she presses herself deeply against the familiar lithe, curves of the dancer's perfect frame and moans at the feeling of her heavy breasts falling against the other girl's lighter, perkier ones.

Clear blue eyes fringed by impossibly perfectly curled dark blonde eyelashes, have turned into dark sapphires gleaming with want as they stare into her rich, coffee eyes, and heat flares deep within her core. Her cotton candy pink tongue darts from her matching pink lips and she's entranced by the way it circles every inch of skin, wetting it so it gleams like her eyes.

All of her senses are heightened and just as her mind shuts down, ready to be absorbed by Brittany and _only_ Brittany, her airy voice breaks the spell. "Tana..."

The way she says the nickname she gave her when they were Freshman, tells her she's about to say something like she said after they came back from losing Nationals. That moment flashes in her head, how they had stood by her locker and she made some crack about having a Berry voo doo doll (ugh, as if she'd _waste _her precious time on that annoying little midget), and Brittany had teased her before saying, "I love you and because of that, I believe anything's possible."

Even now, she's filled with warmth; a warmth only the blonde underneath her has ever come close to making her feel. Her body stiffens and her back arches, as if she's bracing for the impact of what could be happening, and she hopes silently, that whatever Brittany says is good.

Because as much as she loves her – and God help her, she does – she is _still_ the same girl who broke her, who rejected her, and that pain hasn't gone away yet.

Her perfectly curved hand cups her cheek and a shudder races through her while her eyes flutter from the gentleness of the touch.

"You're my Lobster." She breathes, sweet scented breath hitting her face.

Her eyes flare open, wide with confusion and she tilts her head. "I'm your _what_?"

She totally understood the whole Unicorn thing, but um, _lobsters_? What the fuck? Aren't they those disgusting, giant read sea bugs that are, like, hella expensive if you order one at a restaurant?

Brittany's eyes are warm and happy, her lips forming that adorable dopey grin of hers, and it calms her racing heart, but it doesn't make it any less confused. "You know, my Lobster." She insists, sitting up and because she moved, Santana's basically in her lap, their bodies molded together like some sculpture or something. "Come on, Tana, it's, like, a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for like."

Her whole face lights up like a Christmas tree and she claps excitedly, and it takes all the self control Santana has to stop her from saying, "Shut up," and attaching her mouth to the tops of her perfect, pert breasts that are cupped by pink and black polka dotted lace.

"You can _totally_ see old lobster couples walking around their tanks and holding claws. And you know what, Santana? That's going to be you and me, I know it is. We'll be old and covered in steak spots after we've had lots of pretty babies with my hair and your ability to cut people down with your vicious, vicious words. We're gonna be together forever. Don't you think so?"

Her heart is lodged in her throat and tears are forming behind her eyes. Her whole body feels completely frozen as she stares into the clear depths of Brittany's beautiful blue eyes, and she can't choke back the sob she feels forming in her throat.

How the fuck did _she_ get _here_? She's pressed body to body with the most beautiful girl she's ever seen, and _that girl_ is telling her they'll be together forever; that _she's_ her _lobster_.

"I thought Artie made me feel warm and fuzzy like you," Brittany's voice jars her out of her stupor and she blinks, wondering why the hell she's bringing up _Wheels_?

"But," She continues, dopey grin going soft and it's, like, she can _feel_ the love that's shining in her eyes. "Those fuzzies, they were just, like, not forever kind of fuzzies. They didn't feel like the fuzzies I feel when I'm with _you_. Your fuzzies are the forever kind of fuzzies."

Santana swallows thickly and runs a shaky hand through her glossy hair. Breathing in, bends forward and in the most gentle motion she's ever performed, she touches her lips to Brittany's. Slowly, she moves her lips against hers and this kiss is different than all their others; it's not short and teasing, it's not hot and desperate, it's slow and smooth and a kiss that means more to her than _anything_ has in her whole life.

She pulls back and through hooded eyes, she says in a warm, affectionate tone that's reserved for _only_ Brittany, "_You're_ my _lobster_, too, Brittany. And hells yeah, we're gonna grow old together and have the hottest babies ever."

"You feel the forever kind of fuzzies too?" She gasps, looking at her in awe all over again.

"Damn right I do."


End file.
